Just One Night
by broodyprettygirl
Summary: Chuck Bass needs just one night to make Blair Waldorf go bad. Or does he have something else he wants? Oneshot. C/B


This is my first adventure into the Gossip Girl world…my new obsession. I have only started watching GG this season, so I don't really know the whole storyline. I do know that Chuck and Blair were meant for each other, though. 

This is just a small oneshot that was inspired by the song Good Girls Go Bad by Cobra Starship. Because I think Chuck and Blair are great for that song. It's not much, but it's my first stab at what may be MANY stories! 

To my Brucas readers…I apologize for not updating my other stories before writing this. However, I HAD to get this out of my head! 

Enjoy! 

She's standing in the corner of the room, perfectly put together. Her dress is pressed to perfection, her make-up is flawless, and there is not a stray hair on her head. The brunette with ruby lips is fucking perfect.

And he fucking _almost_ hates her for it.

Her manicured toes peek through her toeless heels. _White_ toeless, backless, strapless stilettos. To match her _white_ dress. He wonders if she orders her dresses a size too small, or if they are just cut to exact size and shape. The satiny material hugs and accentuates every part of her body that is perfect.

Just one night. That's all he needs. Just one _fucking_ night.

The brunette's ruby red lips part as she throws her head back to laugh. Five of her best-friends surround her, all laughing along to the same joke. He bets he could have them all swooning over him. All of them.

Except for _her_.

She's known for being perfect. Virginal. Upstanding citizen. Straight A student. Someone other teenage girls could look up to.

He doesn't buy it.

He swirls the drink in his hand, and brings it to his lips. He could make her go bad, even if it is for only one night. The liquid makes contact with his throat. It doesn't burn anymore. Just kind of tingles.

--

He's watching her. She can feel his eyes on her. The brown haired, brown eyed guy standing just across the room at the bar. She knows who he is. How can she not? He's _Chuck Bass. _

Charming. Sexy. Suave. Debonair. _Womanizer_.

In fact, she's sure Britney wrote her song just for _Chuck Bass_. But, that doesn't stop Blair from glancing back at him, trying not to make it obvious. On the outside, she's calm and collected. On the inside, she's screaming for him to touch her.

"B, is that _Chuck_ over there?" Serena asks her.

Blair nods, unenthused. She has to appear unenthused.

"He's _so_ obvious," Blair rolls her eyes.

"Obvious?" Serena asks. "Obvious to what, B?"

"He's practically drooling watching us," the sophisticated brunette makes a point to make eye contact with each of her friends. "And none of us are going to fall for his charms tonight," she stops her gaze on Tiffani. "Right?"

"Ugh, fine," the bottle blonde rolls her eyes. "He's so sexy, though."

Her eyes narrow at the girl, and the blonde's eyes grow wide. She knows Blair can ruin her if even over the tiniest thing.

And _Chuck Bass_ was _not_ the tiniest thing.

"Let's dance, girls," Blair stands, smoothing her dress. The rest fall in line behind Blair, and follow her to the dance floor.

--

She's dancing for him.

He knows she is. Her muscles flex as her hips sway. Brunette hair sweeps across her back. Her breasts bounce with her breaths.

She's _amazingly_ perfect.

_Damn her_. He sets his empty glass down, taking his eyes from the temptress for only a moment.

_The last time she danced for him…_

His body shivers, and goose bumps cover his skin. Once again his eyes fall back onto her heavenly form. Her eyes are shut tight, her fingers run through her chocolate hair, her ruby lips pucker.

She's thinking of him.

By now, he's sure she's scared her friends into staying away from him so his only choice for the night would be her. She thinks she's seducing him, but he knows it's the other way around.

He's seducing her.

How many other guys can say they can get underneath Blair Waldorf's skin so deep it'll take years for her to ever be rid of him? Blair didn't do bad things, she didn't do _anything_ bad. Until she met _him_.

He makes good girls go bad.

_Really bad_.

--

The temperature rises, and she starts to feel the tiniest bit of moisture on her forehead. Ladies didn't sweat, and Blair would never admit that she did. But, _his_ eyes are on her still, and she has to keep him interested.

"I'm parched!" She yells to Serena. "I'm going to get a drink!"

"K, B!" Serena yells, taking her eyes away from her hunky dancing partner only for a moment.

Blair rolls her eyes, and struts up to the bar. She chooses the stool one down from him on purpose. He'll come to her.

He _always_ does.

"Just a water!" She yells to the bartender. The man behind the bar nods, bends down and grabs a water from the cooler. He opens it before setting it on the bar before Blair. The bottle hits her lips, and she only sips from it.

"Water?" His deep voice tantalizes her, sending chills shooting up and down her spine.

She ignores him.

He chuckles, then slides one seat over.

"Are you done playing this game yet?" He asks, only slightly gives her his attention.

"Game?" Blair spits. "What game?"

"You know what game, Waldorf," he rasps. "I can have my limo waiting for us in no time."

"Keep dreaming, _Bass_," she puts her nose in the air as she walks away.

He watches her because he knows she wants him to. Her hips sway, her ass bounces perfectly. By the end of the night, his hands will be covering the succulent plump flesh.

--

Chuck Bass does a lot of things, but he _does not_ do dancing. She knows. So when a perfectly fine looking male ends up before her, giving her a timid smile, and swaying along to the music with her, she lets him.

Because she _can_.

She smiles up at him as they sway to the same beat. She doesn't let him get too close. She _knows_ not to let him get too close. But she keeps him close enough, that he's wanting more.

So _Chuck_ can see that she _can_.

Her eyes scan the room and fall on _him_. He's got that scowl on his face, and he has a new drink in his hand. She takes a small step forward, so she's closer to the unknown man.

Chuck's jaw _clenches_.

Her eyes flicker away from him. He can't know that she's dancing for him.

--

She's tempting him. She wants him to make a move, so she steps closer to the loser she's dancing with and looks away from him. Chuck takes another drink and watches her longer.

She's beautiful, even though she's dancing with _someone else_.

The man's hand lands onto her waist, and she flinches. Chuck laughs, but he plays along. He takes another drink, before setting his jaw and placing the empty glass back down on the bar.

Blair wants to play a _game_, so he'll play.

He stands and adjusts his scarf before turning and heading for the door.

She'll follow him.

He's only a step away from the door when she catches his arm. Chuck smiles, but drops it before he turns around, his jaw tensed, his eyes narrowed.

"You're leaving?" She questions.

"I have no reason to stay," he shrugs, and puts his hands deep within his pockets.

She's at a loss for words. How many men can say they took the words right out of Blair Waldorf's mouth?

Not many.

"Come with me," he urges.

"I can't leave my friends," Blair gasps.

"Yes you can."

He grabs her arm and pulls her closer to him. His lips hover above hers. Her scent intoxicates him more than any alcohol ever could.

"Chuck," she breathes out.

Her eyes close, and he presses his lips against hers.

"Chuck," she pushes him back, her eyes still closed.

"Leave with me, Blair. My limo is waiting outside."

"Everyone will see. My friends will wonder where I went."

"No one cares," he assures her.

"_Everyone_ cares."

"Maybe it's time the Upper East Side knows about us," he mentions, pulling her back closer to him.

She closes her eyes, and imagines once again he's kissing her. His lips are intoxicating. He's all consuming. She hasn't been able to rid herself of him since their first kiss.

"Our games would have to end," Blair points out.

"We would find new ones," he insists. He grasps her hips, and presses his middle against her. She gasps as realization sets in.

"You were jealous," she pulls back.

"Of what?" Chuck asks. "Chuck Bass doesn't get jealous."

"You were walking out of here and now you want everyone to know about us?" Blair looks as though she has everything figured out.

Chuck _wants_ her to think that.

"You twist things," he bends and whispers into her ear.

She shakes her head. "I see clearly."

The wheels in her head turn, the perfect features on her face brighten, and she's finally playing along with _his_ game. He cups her cheek, and she nuzzles into it. She kisses his palm before pulling away from his hand.

"You're ready for us," she speaks.

"I'm ready for us," he echoes.

She smiles brightly and grasps his hand. She doesn't think about what people will say once they know she's dating _the_ bad boy of the Upper East Side. She doesn't care what kind of stain it will put on her image.

Blair pulls him to the middle of the dance floor. Her arms wrap around his neck, a smile brightly shines on her face.

It _makes_ him smile.

This will work. There will be someone in the club that will have a camera. She presses her lips against his. Their lips part, and their tongues meet. His arms wrap around her waist, and he squeezes.

Blair Waldorf is _his_.

He wants _everyone_ to know.


End file.
